"Howdy, Mr. Carston—howdy? Knowin' the hospitality of this here outfit, we most killed ourselves to git here, to say nothin' of the horses. We left them leanin' up against the corral, the worst done up cayuses." Then directly in appeal to Jim, he said, "We simply got to stay here to-night, Mr. Carston."
With a cordial gesture of invitation, Jim said, "You and the boys are welcome, Sheriff, and what we lack in grub and accommodations we'll hope to make up to you in good-will."
As Jim spoke, Bud quickly glanced in triumph at Clarke, a prominent worker in his posse. The pale face of Clarke gave back a glance of comprehension as he lowered his white-lashed eyelids over his bulging eyes. All this was observed by Bill, who sauntered towards the Sheriff as Bud answered Jim.
"What's good enough for you all is good enough for us, you bet," and he wrung Jim's hand again. "Why, hello!" he finished, as he saw Bill and turned to greet him.
"Any news?" Bill laconically asked, as he studied Bud and his men.
"Nothin' of any consequence," said Bud. "We just had a little fracas down at the agency. Total result, one Injin killed."
A shout of approval rose from the boys, but Clarke broke in with another guffaw. "And the joke of it is, Bud killed the wrong man."
"But nothin' to it. All in a day's work," Bud laughingly explained.
"You look tired, Sheriff," Jim said. "The boys will take you to their quarters. Shorty, you and the others make the Sheriff and his people feel at home."
There was a murmur of approval. "Come on," said Shorty, and the men started for their quarters. Shorty, who loved bossing an affair almost better than teasing, swept them all on before him. Then he linked his arm through Bud's.